Laughter is the Best Medicine
by literatiwannabe
Summary: A collection of random, unrelated, silly little ficlets I've written. Will be added to sporadically.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so this is a series of collected, unrelated ficlet pieces I've written over the years. They are silly and ridiculous and full of much glee—theoretically, anyway.

**SG-1 as Robin Hood and his Merry Men. Because Lyssie asked for it and suddenly, the image of Jack in tights wouldn't go away.** **November 3, 2004**

"How did this happen?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Sam said as she looked down at the tunic and tights she found herself wearing. "I think you're dreaming."

Jack considered his outfit and shuddered. "If I'm dreaming, why did my subconscious put me in tights?"

She smirked. Man, he really was starting to rub off on her. "Good point. Maybe it's my dream." Then she ogled him. Definitely a dream, then.

He started to raise an eyebrow, but Teal'c, as usual, beat him to it before examining the large wooden staff he was holding. "This seems to be a most ineffective weapon, O'Neill."

"Yeah well, the name Little John never made any sense either, T. Though you fit the role rather well, I think."

Teal'c bowed. Because really, there wasn't anything else to do.

"Hey, where's Danny?"

"He's hiding behind the bushes over there," Sam said, gesturing vaguely. 

"Why? If I can prance around in green tights, then I'm sure…."

"Forget it, Jack! I'm not coming out!"

"Hey, we're all wearing tights, Danny boy. Don't be so grouchy. At least we get bows and arrows and stuff to go with them."

"Actually sir, I have throwing knives."

"And I don't have either, so forget it!"

Jack sighed and signaled to Teal'c, who with a bow, reached over and pulled Daniel out of the bushes.

"Damnit Teal'c!"

"My apologies, Daniel Jackson."

Daniel shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep the breeze from blowing up the voluminous skirts of the blue dress he was wearing and glare at them all at the same time. Jack was so stunned he couldn't even come up with a good barb. Instead, he turned to Sam.

"What the hell did you eat before bed, Carter!"


	2. Chapter 2

…**I have commited kittenreplyspam. (For nakedtoes, October 23, 2005)**

Sam couldn't tear her eyes away from the spectacle currently on her couch. It wasn't that it was that unusual, especially compared to the things she saw and worked with everyday. It's just that she had never really expected to see Jack O'Neill stretched out on her sofa with a tiny little orange fluffball of a kitten curled up on his stomach. 

In her sentimental and _completely_ private daydreams, she may have imagined him there with a dog at his feet. Something large and loyal like a retriever, something that would love Jack ardently and forever. But...a cat?

Cats were independent. Cats were haughty. Cats were great to cuddle with and stroke, but only on their terms. Yet, there he lay with the kitten, and while he'd deny it, she'd swear that he was purposely breathing shallowly so as not to disturb it.

"You bought a _cat_?" she finally asked.

"You like cats," he replied a little defensively.

"I know I like cats. I didn't know _you_ liked cats."

He glanced down at the fluff and then back at her. "Well, I was on my way to the pound, you know, to pick out a big and manly dog, and there was this sound coming from under my car..." If he could flail without waking the tiny creature, he probably would have been by now. "And there she was, all wet and pathetic and she has big blue eyes that look just like yours and she kept making that _sound_...I couldn't just _leave_ her there."

Sam had no choice but to melt at that, because he was so earnest and sweet and even if that hadn't been enough, the kitten poked its head up with a "Mrow?" and a blink that would have stopped even Kinsey in his tracks.

Scooping up the tiny animal, she nuzzled it gently. "Of _course_ not..."

Jack, looking considerably relieved that the issue was now decided, scooted closer to them both and scratched behind its ears. "Can we still get a dog?"

She sighed, knowing the battle was lost. "Yes. But I swear to God if you start looking at white picket fences, I'll leave you in a heartbeat."


	3. Chapter 3

**Comment ficlet written for Kate, November 29, 2005**

Sam had expected a lot of different reactions to her surprise visit in Washington, but she wasn't sure if grumbling and rolling away from her had even made the list.

To be fair, Jack was currently asleep, so he could hardly be blamed for his lack of enthusiasm. Still, as she situated herself under the covers, the very girly part of her that she made many efforts not to indulge pouted a little. 

"Feet're cold," Jack slurred, huddling even further into the down comforter.

"Sorry," she whispered, knowing that was the truth. "It was raining."

For awhile, that seemed to be the end of the conversation, and she resigned herself to having a more enthusiastic greeting in the morning. It wasn't until she had gotten comfortable and was on the edge of sleep that he rolled over again, his arm pulling her towards him while he nestled closer, invading her space in all the right ways.

"It's you," he observed, sounding as delighted as a man who was mostly asleep could manage.

"Last time I checked," she replied, humoring him.

"You're here," was the next exclamation.

Running her fingers through his mussed hair and not bothering to curb an affectionate smile, she responded with, "Yes."

"S'good," he managed before dropping off again.

Well, she _had_ wanted him to acknowledge her presence. Now, she could barely move--he was sprawled on top of her, and, she suspected, was ever so slightly drooling on her chest. Still, that very girly part of her insisted that this was the best idea she had had all week.


	4. Chapter 4

**Icon inspired ficlet for fallenbelle, April 3, 2006**

Physically incapable of tearing his gaze away from the picture perfect site of Sam sprawled across his desk in nothing but stilettos, Jack's brain futilely scrambled for something to say. Unfortunately, a sort of strangled "Unnngh" was the only thing that actually managed to make it out of his mouth.

An all-too familiar smirk appeared across Carter's face as she nonchalantly flipped through a report. "How articulate, Jack."

"Wah…well…words and…_that_…don't mix!" he insisted, still gaping—although he finally managed to completely shut and lock the door to his office.

"Mmm," she said absently. "I could put my clothes back on."

He started loosening his tie. "And waste perfectly wonderful naked Carter? I don't think so."

She laughed, giving up at feigning indifference. "Missed me, then?"

He leaned down and nuzzled her ear. "Hey, I'm not the one naked on the desk. Speaking of, how did you even get in here?"

She sat up and wrapped all of those long, long legs around his waist, with her arms circling his neck and a warm mouth lingering on his collarbone. "Your assistant let me in before she locked up for the night. She's noticed that you're notably easier to deal with after a visit from me."

He chuckled, pulling her head back because he had to kiss this crazy, shameless, _perfect_ woman. "Go figure."


	5. Chapter 5

**Season Six Jonas ficlet for controlfreak80, April 3, 2006**

Still flying high from his first official mission with SG-1, Jonas walked into the commissary and made a beeline for the cafeteria line—after all, it had been hours since he had polished off that banana on the alkesh.

"Jonas?"

He turned to see none other than Major Davis in line behind him, smiling in greeting. "Major Davis! Nice to see you! Glad to see you made it back to the SGC all right."

"You too," the man said, seemingly sincere. "Some first mission, huh?"

"Definitely," agreed Jonas with fervor, loading up his plate and grabbing a few extra bananas for good measure, peeling one while they progressed down the line.

Major Davis watched his actions with a quiet sort of intensity. "You really like bananas."

Honestly, Jonas had never really thought about it. "Errr…yeah, I guess so. There's nothing really like them at home."

Davis nodded thoughtfully, then smiled. "Hey, I'm going to be in town until next week. Would you be interested in a trip up to the surface to do some sight-seeing, maybe catch a movie? As the Pentagon's liaison to the SGC, I'm cleared to be your escort up there."

Excited at the prospect, Jonas swallowed a big bite of banana quickly. "Really? You wouldn't mind?"

Oddly, Major Davis seemed to be staring at his banana. "Oh no. Not at all."

"Great! See you then!" Jonas agreed, reaching the end of the line and making his way happily to the table where the rest of SG-1 sat.

"You seem…chipper," Colonel O'Neill observed.

"Oh, sorry Colonel, I'm just excited. Major Davis is taking me out this weekend."

At this news, the Colonel coughed a little, exchanging a quick glance with Sam. "Well, that's…nice. But in the future? How about you just…not tell us. And we won't…uh…ask."

Finishing off the last bite of his banana, Jonas nodded agreeably. "Whatever you say, Colonel."


	6. Chapter 6

**Fireman!verse ficlet written for sjhwtolerance, April 4, 2006**

When Jack had accepted the promotion to fire chief, he had been notably ignorant of what the job entailed. And while he liked being able to watch out for his men and run things the way he wanted, there was one distinct and notable disadvantage that came with the higher office.

Paperwork.

There were many things O'Neill didn't like in this world, and of them, paperwork probably made the top five most hated list. And because he hated it so much, he found excuses not to do it. Unfortunately, this caused a sort of deathly cycle that seemed to produce only _more_ paperwork. So much, in fact, that Hammond had informed him that until he received all of Jack's paperwork, he would not be getting a day off.

Three days later, Jack was finally nearing the bottom of the pile. Although he still had a stack about an inch thick, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. And God forbid anyone keep him from it—this was a man on a mission.

So when T, normally an always welcome visitor in Jack's office, knocked on the door, there was more than enough reason to growl in displeasure.

"Chief…."

"T, I swear to God. I've spent three days working my way through this mess and I'm finally close, so would you _please_ just…."

The bigger man held up his hands in surrender. "Hey, Chief, sure. I just thought you might wanna know that your wife called to inform you that she's in labor. Somehow, I think if you miss the birth of your first born because of paperwork, Sam's wrath will be a _hell_ of a lot worse than Hammond's."

Jack actually paled at the thought. His wife was _way_ scarier than his boss.

Plus, uh, baby. He was having a baby. Or, okay, _Sam_ was having a baby. _His_ baby. Their baby? Oh hell, he didn't know. Political correctness has never been his forte.

He leapt out of the chair, searching for his keys, his coat, anything and everything. T's big hand on his shoulder finally made him pause. "I can't find my keys," Jack said, a bit dazed.

T smirked. "No prob, Chief. We'll give you a ride."

Jack peered out the door to the bright red fire engine, freshly washed. Now, _that_ was a way to make an entrance. "_Excellent_."


	7. Chapter 7

**Season Seven-ish ficlet spam for karmaaster, April 5, 2006**

It didn't escape Sam's notice that Colonel O'Neill seemed to be enjoying this whole situation a little too much—but then, it wasn't exactly unusual for the colonel to enjoy a good laugh, so long as it was at Daniel's expense.

And she had to admit, knowing that Daniel had accidentally gotten himself married to yet _another_ alien princess was more than a little amusing. However, refusing to come out of the tent just because he had misinterpreted the meaning of the ceremony earlier seemed to be going a bit overboard.

"Honestly, Daniel," she said through the flap of the tent, "It's not like this is the first time you've accidentally gotten married. Isn't hiding a bit extreme?"

"I'm not hiding because _I_ got married! I'm used to making _that_ particular blunder!" came a strident voice through the canvas.

"Well then, what's the problem?" the colonel asked less than patiently.

Silence was their only reply for a few tense moments, before a timid voice began, "The ceremony earlier?"

"Yeeeees…."

"As it turns out, it was a _group_ ceremony. That's how they do it here, apparently. Every couple who was in physical contact during that ceremony is, for lack of a better term…."

Sam swallowed a suddenly tight throat, recalling with vivid clarity the way she and the colonel had walked side by side through the square, his hand firmly on her back to lead her through the crowd…. "Oh, boy."

Jack seemed to be turning an interesting mix of colors—green, red, and then purple in turn. "Daniel, are you saying that not only did you screw up and marry another too-friendly alien, but you somehow managed to marry me to _Carter_!"

"…This would be why I'm hiding in the tent."

She knew that there was probably some reason to be angry here—if nothing else, annulling an off world marriage was a five page form that was really annoying to fill out—but somehow, the first thing that came out of her mouth as she gazed at Jack was, "Huh."

His eyes settled on hers and there was _that_ particular look in them, the one she liked so well because it made her toes curl and something innately female inside of her do cartwheels. "That's all you have to say?"

She considered carefully. "For now."

He rocked back on his heels, studying her for a long time before his lips quirked into a half-smile. "I can live with that," he agreed.

She blushed a bit, but dared to hope. "Yeah?"

Brown eyes swept down her body and the look he sent her was a whole new one—one that left the first look in the dust. "_Oh,_ yeah," he said emphatically.

They stared at each other in silence, grinning like the idiots she sometimes thought they were, until he finally looked away. "Daniel, you can come out now. Carter has saved you from a painful future. But if we end up having to fill out those annulment papers, you're _so_ doing ours on top of your own."

Crazy Daniel hair followed by owl-wide eyes popped out of the tent, darting between the two of them. "_If_?"

Sam grinned, mentally listing P4X-277 as one of her top five favorite planets. "If."


	8. Chapter 8

**Lost City ficlet for llorelei, April 7, 2006**

She wondered through the entire drive what, exactly, she was going to say to him. It's not like there was etiquette for this sort of thing, a nice little book that listed appropriate conversation topics in case of impending mental override by alien imprintation. There was always what she _wanted_ to say—but that was out of the question, for more reasons than she cared to think about.

Besides, she was never really sure if he would want to hear it. And if he didn't, well…she couldn't have faced that.

But it was a nice sort of fantasy that she entertained, where he would open the door and look at her and _know_ and that finally, something could be said or done to fill the ache echoing in her chest.

Even if it was too late to make much of a difference, it would have been something to hang onto once whatever happened…happened.

When he answered the door and stared at her in surprise, she knew that it really had been a fantasy—when it came down to it, neither one of them seemed to be brave enough to deal with the elephant in the room. Left only with platitudes and awkward conversation, Sam wondered if there had ever been something there at all.

And then his hand brushed her back casually, in passing, and she realized the truth—it wasn't because there was nothing there that they didn't talk about it. It was because what _was_ there was bigger than either of them knew how to handle.


	9. Chapter 9

**Emancipation ficlet for llorelei, April 7, 2006**

"Jack," Daniel admonished as they made their way out of the tent.

"Daniel," Jack responded, feigning innocence.

"_Jack_."

Knowing he could play this game longer than Daniel could, Jack just smirked, putting his sunglasses back on. "Daniel."

"Jack…you were…_ogling_."

He didn't bother to deny it—what would be the point? "It's some dress, that's all."

Daniel fumed. "No, Jack. Sam's some woman. That's more important."

Sometimes, being on a team with Mr. Sensitivity sort of sucked the fun right out of things. "Daniel, just drop it."

"She's my friend! I mean, I complimented her, but _you_…you were…."

Jack tilted his head, curious now. "I was what?"

"…Imagining her naked."

At that, the colonel sent his geeky little friend that clearly stated, 'that's enough'. "Just admiring the view, Daniel. An innocent compliment never hurt anyone."

Although Jack would never admit it, his compliment had been anything but innocent, and his attempt at pretending otherwise wasn't fooling anyone. And it really wouldn't have been a problem if this had been a one time sort of deal, brought on by nothing more than blue cloth stretched over pale skin. But it hadn't been the first time Jack had fought off more than slightly inappropriate images of his 2IC.

Glancing behind him towards the flap of the tent, Jack had the sinking feeling that it sure as hell wouldn't be the last.


	10. Chapter 10

**Icon inspired ficlet for lyssie, April 7, 2006**

"Holy…Carter, what in the hell are you wearing?"

Legs that didn't seem to end twirled in stiletto heels. "Like it?"

The little black dress was every cliché in the book—and looking at Sam in it, Jack realized that he was now going to be forced to reevaluate his opinion on clichés forever. "Uh, yeah. What's the occasion?"

She shrugged, eyes too wide to be believed. "Thought I'd seduce you."

Now _that_ caused him to bark out in laughter, which probably wasn't the smartest move considering her immediate put-upon look. "Hey, sorry, sorry," he apologized. "It's just…so outrageously unnecessary."

Sam quirked an eyebrow. "Do tell."

He fingered the silky material of the dress, sighing happily. "Not that I don't appreciate the effort, Carter, but I married you because you pretty much turn me on in anything. Sweatpants. BDUs. My boxers. Or better yet, nothing at all."

She was silent and he thought back over he last statement. "Oh. And because, y'know, of your brain and…stuff."

Her laughter could be felt in little puffs of air against his neck and she rested her head on his shoulder. "Good to know. You realize that this means I'm taking off the shoes before sex. These things pinch."

A small part of him mourned for the oh-so-delicious shoes.

The rest of him only processed the word 'sex', mentally connected it with 'Carter', and was too busy celebrating to care much about footwear.


	11. Chapter 11

**Atlantis, "What Rodney McKay Did On His Earth Vacation", Intruder Episode Insert written for controlfreak80**

Because being back on Earth really was as boring as Rodney had thought it would be, it only took about an hour for him to find his way to an empty lab. Because of the lack of ever-impending death here in the Milky Way, McKay finally had some time to spend sorting through and cataloguing the information in the Ancient database.

It was a consuming project, but there were only two things (besides the lack of impending doom) that Rodney had really and truly missed about Earth that he once again had access to. And an unlimited supply of coffee was one of them.

Fifteen cups of steaming hot java later, McKay stumbled over something…odd. Because he didn't know what to make of it at first, he decided to move on to the next file. But as it turned out, it was also a holographic image of similar content. As was the next file, and the next.

All told, there seemed to be several hundred files that consisted of little more than recordings of various Ancients…standing. And, usually, glowing.

Thankfully, the only other thing he had really and truly missed about Earth was due for a video conference (he reluctantly admitted to himself that it was _not_ a date) at 9 am precisely. And Samantha Carter was unfailingly punctual.

Sure enough, right on time, her delectable face popped up on his laptop. "Enjoying my lab, McKay?"

"Not nearly as much as I would be if you were here," he pointed out. "What in the world made you transfer to Nevada?"

"I thought I'd try getting a life." Ah. He had heard those could be nice. "So, what piece of astounding Ancient technology couldn't you make sense of without me?"

"What, I can't just call to say hello?"

She made a face. "You could. I'd rather you _didn't_, though…."

It was wonderful to know that she was as perfect as he remembered. "Yes, well. I'm sending you an email of some schematics I want you to glance over. My somewhat incompetent team has been having trouble with them. Oh, and I'm going to attach a holographic file. If you can make heads or tails of it, let me know."

Sam grinned. "I tell ya McKay, one of these days I'm going to get sick of doing all the heavy lifting in this relationship."

Before he could come up with an appropriate retort (or, thankfully, be too excited by the fact that she had referred to him as a _relationship_), the window closed and the conference was over. Or at least, it was for about ninety seconds after he sent the email, when her now somewhat scandalized visage reappeared on his screen. "_Rodney!_" she exclaimed.

Normally, that tone quickly followed some supposedly-inappropriate comment he had made. Seeing as she had signed off with the last word, McKay honestly had no idea what he had done to earn this particular level of outrage. "What?"

"I…you can't just send me things like this! It's taking our little you-flirt-with-me-and-I-try-not-to-wish-you-into-oblivion thing _way_ too far!"

Pulling up the holographic file he had sent her and displaying it full size in the middle of the lab, Rodney failed to see what had her so wound up. He paused the recording of the two Ancients, studying it closely. "What am I missing?"

"Are you kidding me? You mean, you don't know that—"

That was when John walked in, only to have his eyes fall on the frozen image. Stopping in his tracks, the Major threw an arm over his eyes. "Whoa! Geez, McKay. You could at least lock the door."

Rodney now got the distinct sense that was being laughed at by _two_ people, and he really hated it. "Would someone care to fill me in?"

Trying to sober up, Sam said, "Well, McKay, it's just that you've apparently stumbled onto…what I mean to say is…you see, the files are…."

"Porn," Sheppard said bluntly. "That, right there? Ancient porn."

"You're kidding!" McKay exclaimed, looking back at the frozen image. "Huh. Very…float-y, I guess."

Disturbingly, both Sam and John seemed to experience a moment of extreme self-satisfaction.

"_Oh_, yeah," they said in unison.

--

Obviously, I'm not very good at grasping thing whole "one line fluff fic" thing. Oh well. One more fanfic10 down for me!


	12. Chapter 12

**For familyarchives: Five things Vala did to torture Cameron that only made him smile.**

The problem with getting to know Daniel too well was that he became much less of an appealing toy. If she toyed with him too much, he might stop being concerned with her and believing in her and all those nice sorts of things that honestly, she was beginning to like quite a bit.

Problematically, however, Vala really _liked_ toys.

Luckily, it didn't take long to settle on Cameron as an easily available alternative. After all, he was there all the time and just as attractive and had an enthusiasm that Daniel lacked about this whole SG-1 thing that she could relate to.

With her new target in mind, Vala began to act accordingly, developing a haphazard plan of contrary behavior that she felt was certain to drive Cameron insane. Her hair went in pigtails almost all of the time now, because Cam seemed like the sort who'd be annoyed by the pretense of sweet and innocent. She discovered a wonderful thing called bubble gum and began blowing bubbles constantly – although admittedly, at some point that became less about annoying Cameron and more just about seeing how big she could get them. She also started horning in on Cam and Teal'c's sparring lessons, sitting on the sidelines and giving pointers ad nauseum. During movie night, she insisted on watching movies Daniel had dubbed "chick flicks".

And finally, she continued to flirt with any male within a five mile radius. Outrageously. Somehow, he seemed to have become convinced that the behavior of SG-1 reflected on him personally, and she didn't think he'd be too fond of the "shameless" label.

Unfortunately, so far, her plan was having little success.

All he did with the pigtails was pull them. Which, she was adamant, was _not_ cute. At all. When he saw her chewing gum, he asked if she had a piece to spare. When she offered pointers on his hand to hand, he…used them. (Once, he even thanked her. The mind boggled.) As for the chick flicks, well, all he said on that account was that there was a finite number of times a man could watch _Star Wars_ and keep smiling.

And the flirting? Well, he didn't seem to pay much mind to it at all – so long as she was flirting with _him,_ too.


	13. Chapter 13

**For lyssie: Five things about Daniel that everyone except Landry misses.**  
  
1. He thinks that Daniel came back from the dead that last time with a touch of arthritis in right hand. Landry figures it was a matter of time before all that resurrection stuff didn't go quite as planned, and really, he has no proof. But Daniel always sits on his left at briefings, and he's noticed that on rainy days, the archeologist takes substantially fewer notes.

2. He may have been bad with a gun once upon a time, but now, Landry is pretty sure that Daniel could out shoot half of the SGC Marines. Hank's not really sure how much of that is conscious and how much of it was bourn out of a sense of self-preservation, but considering that it's Daniel, he's betting on the latter. Because, better shot or not, Jackson still has a penchant for getting in too deep.

3. That being said, Landry knows that Jackson is quite glad to have Mitchell on the team. Because Mitchell, being new at this whole interplanetary travel thing, has made three times as many mistakes as Jackson in the last year. Landry suspects that it's something of a relief to Jackson to no longer be the guy catching all the dirty looks for getting them into the scrape of the week.

4. They were talking once about Landry's failed marriage and he couldn't be sure, but he got the definite feeling that Jackson still mourns his wife. Not actively and not with the same passion of those early years on SG-1, but he thinks it would surprise everyone how much Daniel actually misses being married – particularly to the right woman. There's a sense of resignation about his romantic entanglements now that doesn't suit the would-be idealist.

5. Still, Landry's pretty sure that really, Jackson's fairly crazy about Vala. Or, she just drives him crazy, though to be honest Landry's never been able to discern the difference (which explains his own abysmal love life quite well). But the fact remains that more often than not during military briefings, he'll find Jackson staring at the alien woman in a way that Hank's not entirely certain is advisable in a public forum.

Of course, he ignores the fact that he's seen Jackson studying Mitchell in much the same way more than once. Those days are the days when "don't ask, don't tell" becomes Hank's best friend.


	14. Chapter 14

**For fallenbelle: Five secrets about Samantha Carter that she doesn't want you to know.**

1. She didn't always want to be an astrophysicist. She didn't even always want to be an astronaut. Her first great aspiration was too trite for words, because from the ages of four to nine, she had wanted nothing more than to be a ballerina when she grew up. She had the tutu and the lessons and she used the same single minded drive that she now uses to save the world on a nearly daily basis to find the center of balance in a pirouette.

After all, when she pranced around the house in ballet costumes and fairy wands, her father knew what to do with her, twirling her around so fast that she had no recourse but to giggle and bury her head in his shoulder like the daughter who was average and ordinary like the one he imagined when he was away.

It was when she took apart the refrigerator to try and fix the buzzing her mother was always complaining about that Jacob froze.

2. It was obvious to everyone that Sam didn't take to Vala right away. But the reason – well. How could Sam possibly explain that some part of her was jealous, because in a few weeks Vala had entrenched herself into this new, strange version of SG-1 in a way Sam was still struggling to do? Or that she sort of resented how warm Teal'c was with the new arrival when he had yet to refer to Sam as anything but "Colonel Carter" despite nine years of fighting side by side. Or that she envied the way she could get away with anything, because people just seemed to expect the ridiculous and scandalous from Vala, while Sam was stuck as the ever dependable one.

Mostly, she couldn't find words to explain that she resented Vala merely because she wasn't Janet. It was ridiculous and silly, but Sam hadn't exactly had a lot of female friends in her life, and no one had ever bothered to tell her how far and how long the bonds of that friendship should stretch.

Finally, it occurred to her in passing that Janet would have found Vala hysterical.

Somehow, being nice to her seemed easier after that.

3. She never, ever lets herself forget her mistakes. In fact, often times, she has them on a repeating loop in her head. And while other people might find constantly working in the face of their failures paralyzing, Sam finds it centering. It reminds her that when she screws up, people die. Which sounds egotistical, except that she knows it's true.

So when people tease her about working too much, it's easy to laugh them off. Because at least when she's five minutes from totally collapsing, she's not being lulled into a false sense of complacency.

4. She has a notebook locked up at home of ideas she will never show anyone – especially not the United States Air Force. One of the drawbacks of having a mind that works in ways even she doesn't understand is that sometimes, her brain gets away from her. The power she knows is contained on those pages could destroy…everything. And because she has a conscience, she will never willingly let people see that notebook.

But somehow, she quite force herself to get rid of it.

5. She had loved her job at Area 51. A lot. It was days of science and brainstorming and being able to work an eight hours day (okay, eleven) without having to worry about alarms every half hour and being called away from a sensitive experiment. There were no guns (except the laser one she had been working on reverse engineering) and no threat of impending doom.

She had had weekends off regularly, and used them for the social life that she had spent way too much time imagining over the past few years. She had helped Cassie study and taken Jack to all of her favorite D.C. haunts and made love to him on her kitchen counter. With this job, she was given the freedom to consider the future. (It was easier to plan ahead when you weren't running from explosions every few days.) She had started thinking about a house and a dog and the husband she might consider proposing to, even if it was all cliché and a little trite. Maybe even a baby, if she could con Jack into it and get over the whole paralyzing fear aspect of things.

Sam hadn't realized how ready for that life she was until it had been taken away.


	15. Chapter 15

**For karmaaster: Five things about Sam that Jack thinks are unbearably cute**

1. She is forever losing one sock. Sure, he knows that occasionally, they just disappear. But it took awhile before he realized that it happens to her more often than just about anyone he's ever met. He thinks it's because she has this habit of stripping in increments – one shoe when she walks in, the next in the living room, a jacket in the kitchen. She cleans it all up before bed, but somehow, one sock tends to escape.

2. After sex – really, really good sex – she snores. Not a little snore or a remotely lady-like snore, but a full-on sawing of logs that could wake the dead.

Luckily, he snores, too – even after only mediocre sex (which he likes to think is a rarity with them, however delusional that makes him). So, needless to say, he doesn't mind her snoring (in fact, it's sort of become a goal for him). And even he did, he's sure that he'd find the great sex a _great _comfort.

3. When she's "not working", he'll find scribbles all over everything. Equations jotted on the memo pad on the refrigerator or the top of a pizza box, or once, even scrawled across his knee. If he catches her at it, she'll always look sheepish and embarrassed, but it won't stop her from absentmindedly writing physics equations in the condensation on the bathroom medicine cabinet after her shower.

4. When she knows ahead of time that he's coming over, she cooks. The rest of his visit, she won't go near the kitchen, but that first night, she'll always try at some surreal sense of normalcy – roasted chicken or baked potatoes. He'd tell her that it's unnecessary, except that well, he really hates airplane food.

But then, he suspects that's why she does it in the first place.

5. She sings along to every song that she listens to over a certain decibel level. Never mind that she usually doesn't know the words, never mind that she definitely can't sing, words come out all the same. What he really finds amusing though, are the words she'll substitute when she's filling in her own version of the song. He'll never forget the verse she sang to Carmen – _Daniel tripped down the ramp today and somehow managed to sprain his ankle. Cameron laughed at him a lot, until Vala tripped him and he went flying._

Sometimes, he thinks their entire lives should be put to an opera, with Sam writing the lyrics. Admittedly, though, it would probably end up a little more Gilbert & Sullivan than Carmen.


End file.
